My Life by Lionel Graves. (Page 21)
We crossed the River Jordan, “one more river”, a bit of an anti-climax as there seemed a lot of barbed wire and concrete anti-tank there. Then we wound up the heights into Trans jordan by a series of U-turns and S-bends, snaking up the hillside. The Arab buses and trucks used to hurtle down it at great speed, putting their faith in Allah for protection, but he didn't always protect them as the smashed skeletons of vehicles showed in a quite a few places.
The convoy stopped for tea and natural breaks, the tea being brewed in the well established 8th Army way of half a petrol can with sand in the bottom, petrol poured on and then lit and the water boiled in billy cans. The natural breaks were just the desert sand.
On one occasion I reached down for my eyeshields which had fallen to my feet, the car swerved off the road and titled at 30 to 40 degrees on the embankment. I was struggling to get it upright and my co-driver shouted, “Drive it onto the desert you silly...”” Which I did and all was well because once on an even keel I could find a lower place to get back on the road.
We stayed overnight at Arab Legion camps, all tented and very Beau Gest with the bugle calls, very romantic and spine tingling especially the last post on lights out, there was very little twilight, the sun set and then it was dark. I went to the canteen by myself one night and a sandstorm sprang up. I could only see a yard or two infront of my face, thought I would never find my my back to our tent amongst the hundreds of others, but I did eventually.
Several times we saw mirages, lakes and huge pools of water, but there was nothing there. A solitary Arab and his camel suddenly came from nowhere and disappeared back to nowhere. Another marvelous sight was a herd of about a hundred camels being driven to a market somewhere. There was very little other traffic about and we were glad there were no breakdowns.
Finally we crossed the Tigris into more fertile land, supposedly the original Garden of Eden, then the Euphrates and last Baghdad. We handed over the cars then stayed a few nights at a Ghurka Camp on the outskirts. We were allowed into the town, but the most interesting parts of Baghdad were out of bounds, so showing great initiative we looked round the shops and went to the pictures, the film being a Joseph Cotton one, name forgotten but ending up in a bell or church tower. Other films I had seen were Eddie Cantor in Roman Scandals and a French version of Les Miserables. The soundtrack was usually in Arabic with English and French subtitles, sometimes in French with Arabic and English and sometimes – but you can guess the rest.
Coming back we brought a reduced fleet of ambulances so didn't have to drive but sat in the back in relative comfort. Only one accident, a mate but not a close friend went to sleep with his feet stuck out of the back of the ambulance, the one behind failed to stop and ran into him, nearly cutting his feet off at the ankle. He was taken to the nearest hospital and we didn't see him again but heard later that he had been cured and hadn't lost his foot. We brought the ambulances all the way back to Egypt, spent one night on the concrete floor of a canteen in Beersheba.
Back at Abbassia we returned to the old routines of guard duties every three or four nights, fatigues and basically killing time. Quite a few of my particular friends had been posted off to different regiments and finally we were the last batch of our draft and had to change barracks to across the road and work as clerks in GHQ 02E, the Middle East headquarters. Eventually we would have become privates instead of troopers and been transferred to the Royal Army Services Corps and worse still, lose our black berets.
I was to put to work in an office, presumably because I could read and write. With a Lieutenant and a Lance Corporal, writing the strength of every unit in the Middle East in a large ledger when the weekly returns came in, the total active, those sick, those on leave, etc, etc. I would have been invaluable to the Russians as an agent or spy. One day a return went missing, but as I was the lowest rung on the ladder it had to be my fault although I knew it hadn't reached me!
. The River Jordan.
The Baghdad Convoy.
A halt in the sandy part of the desert – surprise, surprise we are brewing up tea!
A halt in the stony part of the desert, we were always brewing up tea.
Johnny Drew, Jock and myself. It can’t be – yes it is - brewing up tea!
Sand was put in an old petrol can, petrol poured on it and then a match thrown in. Kettle put on top.
The chap on the left, looking like a praying mantis, must be avoiding the whoosh of flames.
Ancient and modern.Camels on their way to market, somewhere between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers before reaching the fertile country.
The ship of the desert. This nomad suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and just as suddenly disappeared into the desert.
Front row 3rd from left.
The road to Baghdad.
Email: Lionel Graves (lionel@graf-tek.com).
Copyright ©2000-2008 L. Graves. All Rights Reserved.
